


Occam's Razor

by riverstones



Series: Justice in the Machine [2]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, Justice League (2017), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alfred loves sewing, Bruce Wayne is ridiculously prepared, Diana is good with computers too, F/M, Light Romance, Purple Tentacle Monsters, the world needs more wonderbat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverstones/pseuds/riverstones
Summary: Directly follows the Justice League movie. Bruce Wayne said, “If we make it through the night, you can stay in the shadows forever. Dress up as a bat. I won't even sue.” And then Diana Prince decides to take him up on his offer. A “What if?” scenario.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's spread the Wonderbat love!
> 
> This does not follow the standalone Terra Incognita. We will try our best to keep it canon-compliant.
> 
> We are keeping it short and keeping it light, because our heroes have suffered enough and I need something uplifting in my life for a change.
> 
> As always, I would greatly appreciate comments. Many thanks for reading.

Diana Prince walked briskly through the ancient hallways of the old Wayne manor. She was careful in her steps, as the flooring was weak in places. The roof had deteriorated and the walls were crumbling with neglect. But she knew it was all about to change, and soon.

Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth stood just past the doorway to the main hall, discussing the renovation plans. The former's voice boomed, “Big round table. Six chairs.”

His enthusiasm was catching. “But room for more,” she reminded him.

“But room for more,” he agreed. She chanced a sideways glance at the billionaire. For the first time since they had met, for once, he seemed genuinely untroubled. Perhaps being in his ancestral home, with the prospect of rebuilding, had made him not put up his usual walls. It felt different from the Bruce she was used to, but at the same time it gladdened her.

She cleared her throat. “So, we actually made it through the night.”

He didn't understand what she meant. He replied with a slight frown, “For now. We don't know when the next enemy is coming.”

“That's not it,” she shook her head at him. “I mean, we made it through the night. And… yes.”

He turned to her, confused. “…yes?”

“Yes, I would like to try it. Certainly not forever, but maybe for a weekend or two.” She smiled innocently. “What you told me earlier, right before we fought Steppenwolf. If we make it through the night, I could stay in the shadows, and dress up as a bat. You won't even sue.”

Off to the side, Alfred started coughing uncontrollably. From all the dust, he explained after calming down.

 

First things first. She needed a bat dress. 

She politely asked if he could lend her one. She tactfully did not point out she had noticed him put on his poker face when he uncharacteristically agreed.

Off to the batcave they went.

The most logical bat dress choice was to use one of the bat girls’. Out of Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown, the Gordon girl had the body type closest to hers. Alfred was kind enough to dig up Barbara’s least used suit.

Diana awkwardly stepped out from the armory-slash-changing-room to meet the waiting Bruce. She told him sadly, “It doesn't fit. Hips and chest are,” she inhaled, “too tight.” She turned around to show him the open zipper at her back. He noticed her lack of bra straps but wisely decided not to pursue his train of thought.

Alfred arrived carrying the next costume candidate. It was her own armor, now in trademark Batman black. Diana crossed her arms, understandably annoyed. “Alfred, how could you? Please return it to the way it was.”

“This isn't your armor. It's just a copy.”

“Oh.” She stepped into the armory and tried it on. She stepped out of the armory to show it to the men. “Ooh. Fits great.” She wiggled her arms, then skipped in place to test the armor’s movements. “Feels like my regular one. Plus it's pretty goth. But it doesn't look very much like a bat.”

“Very good,” said Alfred, as he handed her the next one. Back into the armory she went.

She exited with a glare. The suit was one piece, black, shiny, skin-tight spandex. With pointy ears. “This is a catsuit, not a batsuit.” 

“Not quite,” Bruce clarified. “You see, cats have rounder ears, and don't forget the tail—”

She again crossed her arms in annoyance. “Bruce, you have got to be kidding me.”

He sensed impending violence. “Yes. Yes, I am. Here.” He handed her the last bundle, including a hairnet with a set of hairpins. “Put your hair up under the cowl.”

When Diana stepped out from the changing room, she looked like the Batman. The full-body suit in black and gray was androgynous, with care not to emphasize feminine features, and the cape was slightly padded at the shoulders. Even from a close distance, as long as she was not literally in front of the enemy's face, she could pass as a younger  _ him. _ “This is much better,” she commented. Despite the unisex cut, it fit her like a glove.

She wanted to know, “By the way, I am simply curious. Your reputation of being ‘crazy prepared’ precedes you, but this just seems ridiculous. How have you been able to come up with these armors so quickly?”

Bruce deadpanned, “Alfred.”

The butler actually sputtered. “Wait, don't blame me. Fine. I admit it. I sewed them.” He raised his hands. “I overheard you talking. One can dream.”

“And how did you get my measurements?”

It was Alfred’s turn to point fingers. “He used a caliper. On your old war photo.” Bruce managed to keep his poker face in position. Alfred continued, “You didn't think he returned it to you without scrutinizing it first, did you?”

 

Alfred excused himself to attend to the afternoon household chores. Diana turned to Bruce, “Okay. Now what?”

“I haven't thought that far. I never expected you to actually take me up on it.”

“Alfred did,” she pointed out.

“Alfred dreams.”

The silence turned awkward. Diana broke it, “Do I go up a building, and sorta just glare at the city? Just kidding,” she added on seeing his expression. “I know that's not what you really do. The Batman brings criminals to justice. But you've been lying low recently, haven't you?”

“I've been lying low for several years, until Superman.”

“Oh.”

“You already know this. Since Clark's death, crime has spiked up and I was forced out of retirement. Now he's back, and now that our league is getting publicity, I expect crime to drop again. It'll take a while, however. I do have several cases I'm working on at the moment.” He sighed. After a pause, he asked, “Do you want to start now?”

“I suppose there's nothing like the present. Today is Friday with the weekend coming up, and I have some free time,” Diana replied thoughtfully. “I'm not wanted at the Louvre until Monday.”

“How about you take one of the easier cases? Come on,” He gestured for her to follow him to his primary computer. He offered her a seat, which she refused, citing the suit. He sat down, then typed up a command that brought up several files onto the monitors. “Read them, then pick one.”

She shook her head. “I don't want one of your rigged cases that you use to throw people off your trail. And you don't need to test me. Give me the one with the playground monster sightings.”

Apparently, she had already been into his files. The details of that particular case were stored in a private folder. He palmed his face. “Remember we discussed those millions I spent in security?”

“You get what you pay for,” she shrugged. Then she leaned closer to him to admit, “If it makes you feel better, I couldn't crack the ones you personally secured. I doubt I ever could.”

He thought about it. It did make him feel better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blink and you'll miss it.

Early in the evening of a gloomy mid-November day, from the top of a late-20th century skyscraper, Batwoman brooded over the city of Gotham. With one booted foot stepping upon a stone gargoyle head, elbow resting on top of bent knee, she gazed over the unsuspecting megapolis while deep in thought.

If he had spent the past twenty years hunched over this way, then no wonder he was having back problems at the sprightly young age of forty-five.

She straightened, and flexed her arms. Other than the hunching and the abrasive full-body suit, looking over city streets wasn't that much different from what she was already used to. So much for the ‘staying in the shadows forever’ part. Time to get to work.

Since a month ago, the many gangs of Gotham were getting hit by gun-shooting purple tentacle monsters.

That was the theory on the internet, anyway. The ‘victims’ get shot without ever seeing their attacker. Since the victims were all gang members wanted for prior crimes, they get arrested when the police arrive. The next day, photos of the crime scenes with purple tentacles show up in true-crime forums, police message boards and social media. It was popularly dubbed as the ‘playground monster sightings’ due to the photos being of playgrounds or public squares that the gangs used as hotspots.

One thing was clear about the attacks, however. There were zero casualties.

Bruce, as part of his standard procedure, kept tabs on gang activities. She had perused his files and had formed a vague idea on where the next attack was going to be.

She arrived at the scene too late. Playground, two blocks from a school. Four victims, obviously alive. She quickly went to them and checked their vitals. Heart rate and breathing were normal, no broken bones, but bruised from being hit with rubber bullets. She discreetly pocketed a rubber bullet for evidence.

No sightings of purple tentacles, so far.

She heard sirens in the distance, and took it as her cue to leave. She ducked into a nearby alley as the police arrived.

 

She came face to face with a pair of big, curious brown eyes. The eyes belonged to a brown-skinned, curly-haired girl in jeans and a cream hoodie. The girl's mouth had dropped open in surprise. After a while, she spoke.

“You're Batman. Except… you're not a man. Can't tell though, unless it's up close.” She looked her up and down. “Are you Batgirl? I thought Batgirl had a yellow insignia.”

“I'm Batwoman, I think. I'm very new to this.”

She giggled. “I can tell. I'm Zoe.” She held her hand out. “Zoe Lawton. Nice to meet you.”

Diana shook the girl’s hand. “Nice to meet you, too. Are you on your way home from school?”

“Yep. Gotham State High, fifth grade.”

“What are you doing here? This area is dangerous.”

“I’m waiting for the monsters.”

“Monsters?”

“They said monsters did it. Purple tentacle monsters. The photos are all over the internet.”

“Did you ever see the monsters?”

Zoe shook her head in the negative. “No. I was too late today.”

“Today? You mean you've been to the other monster attacks?”

She bit her lip as she realized that she had probably said something she shouldn't have. “Can't tell you. Don't want to get in trouble.”

She obviously knew more than she was letting on. Diana bent so her face was level with Zoe’s. “Is there something you think you should tell me?”

“I grew up here, lived here all my life. I know all the gangs. I've been following the attacks. I want to get pictures of the monsters so I can sell them to the newspapers.”

That sounded believable enough, and Diana didn't think it was sporting to use her lasso on a ten-year old. She had a hunch Zoe hadn't told her everything yet, but she consciously decided not to press it. Instead she made a mental note to talk to the girl again later, in less hazardous circumstances. “I don't think you should stay here to wait for the monsters. I'm going to take you home now.”

The girl's face fell in disappointment. Reluctantly, she said, “Okay.”

Diana grabbed her about the waist and picked her up. “Which way?”

Zoe pointed. “Five blocks that way. The apple green house.”

“Hang on,” she said. Zoe embraced her about the neck. She faced the direction of the house, bent her knees, and leapt into the air.

“I didn't know Batgirl could fly,” Zoe exclaimed. She squeezed Diana more tightly as they soared across the rooftops.

“Batwoman,” she corrected. “I’m not flying. I'm just jumping really high.”

 

Late evening in the batcave. Bruce, still in his casual clothing, sat in front of his computer terminal. He scowled at his screen as the absurdity of the situation gnawed at him.

_You can stay in the shadows forever. Dress up as a bat. I won't even sue._

Of course he had meant it as a joke. Naturally, she was going to take him up on it. His archnemesis was a green-haired clown with a penchant for taking tomfoolery to diabolical degrees. A living Greek goddess taking him literally at his word was nothing out of the ordinary.

He was losing his edge. He hoped he hadn’t completely lost his mind too.

“Master Bruce, I wonder if you have noticed,” Alfred brought the wall-mounted digital map display to his attention. “Miss Prince has been standing on a dumpster for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bruce looked at the blinking dot Alfred pointed to, and cursed. “She must have found the tracker. What about the backup one?”

“Negative. It's been turned off.”

He cursed again, in Mandarin. She found both of the trackers he had installed in her suit. He mentally kicked himself for not following through on his intuition of placing a tracker in that area where the sun didn't shine, where she would be unlikely to find it and even less likelier to rip it off.

Alfred asked, “Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?” He was already halfway towards the door. Angrily, he said, “You know, I was really looking forward to not having to put on the cowl tonight.” He raised his hands in abject surrender. “I was.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce opened the door to find Batwoman glaring at him. She asked, “Where are you going?”

“Uh, I— I was just—”

She held up a torn insignia between her index and middle finger. It was the backup tracker. “Looking for me?”

Bruce tried to grab it but Diana stepped back to keep it from his reach.

“Can I keep the suit?”

“Huh?”

“Please?”

“Uh, sure. Alfred made it for you in the first place.”

“You're sure,” she emphasized. “I don't have to return it?”

“You don't have to return it. Keep it as a souvenir of your crime-fighting weekend in Gotham.”

“Great.” She pocketed the insignia, then grinned at him. “I could get used to having pockets.”

 

Diana walked past Bruce and into the batcave interior. She acknowledged Alfred with a wave, who greeted her back.

She turned to Bruce. “I met a little girl, Zoe Lawton. Ring any bells?”

“Maybe.”

“She wanted to take pictures of the monsters. I didn’t run into any tentacles, by the way. The police arrived just a few minutes after I got there.”

Bruce asked, “There’s been another attack?” She nodded. She pulled out the rubber bullet and handed it to him.

He raised it to the light and examined it. “Same as the previous ones.” He walked over to Alfred’s table, and asked the butler to take care of the evidence. He said, “Diana, it should go without saying, but be careful. Sometimes, it’s not the police who arrive at the scene first.”

Diana sat down in front of the empty computer terminal that Bruce let her use whenever she visited the batcave. She clicked a few keys and logged in as a guest. “I can see why you don't seem to be in a rush to find the perpetrator. Whatever is going on, it is singlehandedly keeping the gang wars in check.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, albeit hesitantly. He pursed his lips. “But it seems like a bad idea to have a vigilante on the loose.”

“By vigilante, you mean anyone besides you?” Diana quipped. She didn’t wait for his answer. “We don't even know if it is a vigilante. It could be monsters, like in the photos.”

He sat down on the chair beside her. “Surely you don’t believe there are real tentacle monsters shooting guns with rubber bullets at Gotham gangsters.”

“The photos are convincing according to theorists.”

“The photos look photoshopped. Really bad photoshop.”

“I had Cyborg run analyses. Unbelievable as it sounds, the images are not photoshopped. I didn’t understand the technical details too much, but there’s two things that convinced him. The file checksums are unmodified. On the image itself he analyzed the lighting and shadows, and came up with perfect alignments—which meant they hadn’t been digitally retouched.”

Bruce sighed, exasperated. “Then some punk placed toys over the crime scenes and took photos of that.”

Diana’s voice was firm. “Or they could be real tentacle monsters. Remember Area 51? Crop circles? Loch Ness Monster?” If he remembered correctly, and he usually did, they were all confirmed hoaxes. He wondered what the Amazon princess was getting at. She continued, “Bigfoot? Chupacabra? I could go on and on.”

“Diana, I promise you, if you start talking to me about posterior-probing extraterrestrials and claiming that they’re real…”

She looked him straight in the eye and said, “Last week, you resurrected an alien from the planet Krypton using a magic box that had been buried in the earth’s crust for five thousand years.”

Fluent in seven languages, he ran out of words.

 

Bruce went back to scowling at his computer screen. Diana, still in full Batwoman regalia, went back to doing whatever it was she was doing. Checking email, probably.

There was one more thing he wanted to bring up, however. He caught her attention.

“Hmm?”

He explained, “The Bat Family—me, the robins, the hoods and the batgirls—we're all normal humans who rely on non-lethal gadgetry. I'm a bit worried for you when you go out as Batwoman. Did you take care not to show your powers? Your bracers, and especially your lasso are pretty distinctive.”

She shrugged it off. “I'm not concerned about rumors. My first two public appearances as Wonder Woman showed us fighting side-by-side. Everyone already knows we work together. I don't mind if anyone finds out I'm masquerading as a batwoman in Gotham.” She pointedly looked at him. “You, Mr. Fear-in-the-Night, can even use it to your advantage. If a solitary giant bat is scary, how scary is that same bat with metahuman allies?” She smirked. “The worst that could happen is the newspapers start thinking that we're dating. But is that a bad thing?”

He blinked. “You think it's bad? Us dating?”

“People thinking that we're dating,” she corrected him. Then she changed the subject. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

Bruce nodded. He swiveled to his own terminal to lock it, as he prepared to escort her on the way out. He asked nonchalantly, “By the way, which hotel are you staying at? We have guest rooms, you can always—” He was talking to air.

Alfred observed, “Annoying, being on the receiving end, isn't it?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up writing all the scenes backwards, but I can't post the ending first, so here it is in full. I know I went a bit over-the-top, but I really needed happy ending wonderbat. Hence the “what-if” tag. NO REGRETS. Please enjoy :)

Bruce did not know what to expect when he headed to the batcave the next morning. If he was lucky, everything would be normal. If he was unfortunate, perhaps a meteor had crashed into it in the middle of the night. Over twenty years, he had thought of many differing scenarios running the entire spectrum between ‘magnificent’ and ‘disastrous’.

He had to admit that he had not yet imagined he would ever enter the batcave to the faint tunes of jazz music.

Diana, in casual clothes, and Alfred, in his regular clothes, were hunched over the latter's desk in an animated discussion. Diana noticed his approach. “Bruce!” she greeted him cheerfully. “The furniture catalogues have arrived.”

Alfred had misgivings about their supplier. He held up several brochures up in his hands. “I'm not too enthusiastic about these. I remember how the hall looked like. They are a little too gauche for my tastes. You have the final say, of course.”

He took the brochures and skimmed through them quickly, ultimately agreeing with the butler. “You're right. I don't think these will work.”

Diana rubbed her nose thoughtfully. “I know a carpenter who does outstanding renovation work for the museum. He makes brilliant original pieces as well. Let me get you his contact info. He is expensive, but he owes me a couple of favors.”

“By the way,” Bruce raised his hand in a gesture vaguely pointing to the ceiling, “what is that I've been hearing since I got here?”

“The Genius of Ray Charles, 1959.” Alfred answered. “Eleventh track,  _ Am I Blue _ ?”

“It's one of my favorites,” said Diana.

“Turn it off.”

Silence. After a while, Diana protested, “But Alfred doesn't mind.”

“I like it,” said Alfred.

“I mind, and it's my cave,” said Bruce. Diana and Alfred both turned to him with blank expressions. He rolled his eyes, walked over to a drawer, then rummaged about. When he found what he was looking for, he held it toward the Amazon princess. “Please use headphones.”

Diana refused. “No need. I'm about to leave.” She grabbed her purse from the nearby desk. With a goodbye wave to Alfred, she headed for the door. “I've got a date with a reporter. If you're here later, I'll see you after lunch.”

 

It was a sunny Saturday in Metropolis. At the Daily Planet reception area, Lois Lane caught Diana in a bear hug. “It's great to see you.”

“Likewise. I really appreciate you letting me copy your notes on the tentacle monsters.”

The reporter ushered her towards a table, and they both sat down. “I’m always happy to help, you have but to ask. And you didn’t need to visit. I could have just emailed you.”

“But it's an excuse to meet,” Diana grinned. “You know how I'm a little old-fashioned.”

“Oh, do you want the files printed?”

“Not that old-fashioned,” she quickly clarified. “Paper doesn't have a quick-search feature.” She dug inside her purse and took out a six-inch digital tablet.

Lois brought out her laptop, then set about to copying the files wirelessly. Offhand, she said softly, “Clark told me that you're thousands of years old.”

“I am.”

“How do you manage? I mean, right now, he's dealing with all that trouble of coming back to life. He had a funeral back home, open-casket and everything. Retracting a death certificate is practically unheard of. We’re seriously considering forging his papers.” Lois took a frustrated breath. She hazarded a guess, “Immortality should have similar problems.”

Diana understood what she meant. She answered frankly, “I used forged papers, myself. I can't put down a birthdate before the common era.”

“So, how? Tell me more.” Lois was eager to know. “If it's okay, I mean.”

“The short answer is that I moved, across country borders. England, Croatia, Switzerland, and now France. Once every thirty years or so. I mostly kept to myself, so I wasn't missed when I eventually disappeared, and people didn't ask too many questions.”

“That's a little sad.”

Diana nodded her agreement. “I don’t think I'll ever get used to it.” Lois reached out to grasp her hand, and she squeezed back. “That's the way it is. But now, thanks to you all, I’m slowly learning how to live in the present again. What little time we have, let's enjoy it, together.”

 

After the file transfer finished, and Lois had handed her tablet back, Diana perused the reporter's notes. Lois remarkably had a lot of the same information that Bruce already obtained on the gang activities. The key difference was that Bruce had relatively little data on the purple tentacle monster theories. Perhaps it hadn’t been important to him. Lois, however, would be following the tentacles story, with its potential as a human interest article. Diana brought it up.

“I am surprised at how many people seem to believe in the purple tentacle monsters.”

“There are people who think the earth is flat. Sometimes, people just want to believe. Sometimes, they need to believe.” Lois shrugged. “I think it’s obviously a hoax.”

“I know it is.”

“And a very childish one at that.”

Diana’s thoughts clicked. “I think you're right. Possibly literally.” She scrolled through several more files. “By the way, these gangsters…” she noticed, “There's a lot of them, but they don't seem to be very smart.”

Lois explained, “Batman already put the masterminds behind bars years ago. I think we are very lucky the current groups haven't been able to organize. Let's hope they stay that way.”

“Yet the Gotham PD can't keep up,” Diana pointed out.

“Gotham’s police department has always been understaffed and underfunded. It's actually pretty amazing how Commissioner Gordon manages to keep them running given their resources. They get no love from the government, that's for sure. We ran a series of articles about it. I can give you access to our archives if you want to read up on their history.”

As a museum curator, she found the offer sorely tempting. “I might take you up on that. Just not today.” Diana had read enough. She switched off the tablet and put it back in her purse.

Lois asked, “You're based in France. Why so interested in Metropolis and Gotham local affairs?”

“We had a bet.” She didn't need to explain who with. “Although I am not sure which of us lost, exactly.”

“If you don't mind my saying so,” the reporter leaned towards her conspiratorially, “Looks to me like you both won it.”


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce had company business he had to attend to in the morning, but he was there later in the batcave after lunch. When he arrived, Diana was preparing to go out again as Batwoman. Alfred was helping her suit up. He struggled to keep composed.

“What are you wearing?”

The cape and cowl were the same. The military-style boots were almost the same, except now they were paired with black thigh-high socks. The pants had been replaced by the black copy-cat skirt of the goth armor. The formerly androgynous tunic was now form-fitting and had its sleeves removed. Her lasso hung on her silver girdle and her distinctive bracers gleamed under the cave’s interior lighting.

Diana replied, “You said I could keep the suit. I asked Alfred to make adjustments.”

“The point of the suit is to be incognito.”

“I know,” she answered firmly. “But the pants chafe.”

He raised one hand in emphasis. “You might as well just go out as Wonder Woman with a bat cape.”

To his chagrin, Diana readily agreed. “That's an idea. Maybe I should have done that from the beginning and saved Alfred all the trouble.”

“I didn't mind,” Alfred chimed in. “I had to come up with a new seaming technique when I made the goth armor. All your future suits will have increased tear-resistance.”

Batwoman merely smirked. “Let's go with this armor for today. The black is growing on me.”

 

Diana arrived at the scene early. Carefully, making sure she remained unseen, she peeked over the side of a warehouse roof onto the street.

The location was a remote two-lane backstreet near the Gotham slums. Close by stood a warehouse and several neighboring apartment buildings, all facing the other way, so the street received little foot traffic and even less vehicle traffic. Several men were in conference. They seemed to be in the middle of some kind of a goods exchange.

She sensed something amiss. As if someone was nearby who shouldn’t be there. She jumped down to the hidden side of the building. From there, she walked to the end of the street. She turned left, walked one short city block, and turned left again into a tiny alley where a little girl in a cream hoodie waited.

“Is that you, Zoe?” Zoe jumped, surprised. Then, recognizing her, the girl approached.

“Uh, ‘Batwoman’? Your costume changed. It's pretty obvious who you are now.”

“Exactly. But that's beside the point.” Diana crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?” she asked sternly.

“I told you, I keep track of the gang activities so I could sell the information to the newspapers.”

“That's not what you said. You said you were waiting to take photos of the monster tentacles.”

“So I could sell them to the newspapers,” Zoe insisted.

Diana frowned at her.

“Really!” Zoe blinked and tried to put on an innocent expression. It didn't work. She changed tactics. “Okay, I need to tell you something really important.” She grabbed Diana's arm. “We should go away from here.”

“Why?”

Zoe tugged at her arm again, trying to pull her toward the other end of the alley. “We just need to go. Like, really really need to go. Please, pretty please!”

They heard the gunshots from a block away.

Diana started, mentally kicking herself for letting the girl distract her. She turned towards the source of the sounds. Just as she was about to move, she suddenly felt a sharp pain near her elbow.

She quickly looked at the girl. “Zoe! Did you just  _ bite _ me?”

Zoe did. “I'm sorry.” The girl was crying now, still clutching tightly to Diana's arm. “Please don't go.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't understand how I manage to keep typing with a straight face.

Batwoman stood atop the roof of a five-story apartment with a little girl snuggled in her left arm. Zoe had grabbed on to her and refused to let go, and after a brief argument the Amazon ended up carrying her. The two of them looked over the abandoned street.

Whether she had meant it or not, Zoe’s distraction had given the gangsters time to escape. Rubber bullets were scattered all over the ground. In the rush to leave, the gangsters had left behind several duct-tape covered boxes, each about half the length of an arm. Bombs? Contraband? Money? She couldn’t tell from this distance, and she certainly wasn’t going near them with her companion.

It was not too late to save the situation. She very much wanted to finish the case tonight. At this point she was certain on the the vigilante’s identity, anyway. Whether he was running or hiding depended on if he knew about Zoe’s presence.

When she saw him, he was already a few blocks away from their position. From the back, he was a bald, dark-skinned man in a red-and-black bodysuit, wearing twin holsters on each hip.

He saw her shadow in the distance, and started running. He didn’t know about Zoe, then. 

She gave chase. A quick sprint across two city blocks.

“No!” Zoe shouted at her ear. “Please don't!” Diana glared at the girl through the bat mask. Zoe squeaked, and stopped fidgeting.

Diana jumped in the air and threw her lasso.

Time slowed. The vigilante turned, sensing danger. She noticed the cybernetic monocle covering his left eye. As he saw her, he raised his rubber-bullet pistol to aim at her chest. His uncovered eye glanced ever so slightly sideways, he saw Zoe, and the point of his pistol immediately changed direction away from them. He had lightning-quick reflexes for a human. His gun clattered to the ground, intentionally discarded, right before the glowing lasso caught him.

Batwoman landed deftly, cape billowing behind her. The girl in her arm whimpered. She sighed in frustration, then felt a little guilty for scaring a child. “Zoe, Zoe, listen. I'm holding my lasso. I can only tell the truth. I promise not to hurt him. Alright?”

Zoe wiped at her eyes. “Okay.”

“Now, I'm going to trust you. I'll let you go, but don't run or do anything crazy. I will catch you if you do.”

“Fine. I promise.”

She put the girl down. She tugged at the lasso, making sure it held well. The man at the other end of the rope stood straight, resigned to his fate, yet defiant.

Diana said, “I know you. You're the one they call Deadpool.”

“Deadshot,” Zoe corrected. “Meet my dad, Floyd Lawton.”

“I figured you were related.”

 

“So,” she turned to the sharpshooter. “Please tell me what this is all about.”

The lasso of Hestia compelled him to to reveal the truth. Not without difficulty, however. Floyd Lawton spoke through gritted teeth. “Look, I know this may not have been the best way of controlling the turf wars, but you know, someone like me ain't got too many choices.” He heaved. “I swear I've gone straight. I love my little girl so much. And I can't stand the thought of her walking along these streets, to and from school, with all the gang wars happening.”

The lasso bound him tight. “I have no idea what the hell is up with the purple tentacle monster photos.”

Diana spoke somberly. “Zoe, do you want to say something?”

The little girl bit her lip, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. After a while she whispered, “It was me.”

Zoe stepped forward and put her hand over Diana’s. She touched the lasso, as if she needed its additional strength. “My dad is infamous. I know that because of the bullets, the police already suspect him first. I made the tentacles out of foam pool noodles, then posted all those photos online so the police would at least look at other suspects too.”

“Aw, Zoe—” Deadshot exclaimed. He pressed his lips together, unable to find words.

Zoe was crying again. She wiped at her eyes. “I love you too, dad.”

“Now, look, can we go?” Deadshot pleaded to Batwoman exasperatedly. “How about, let's say you did arrest me, but then you turned around to do stuff, when you turned back to us we're gone?”

She released him from the lasso and waved her hand in dismissal. He took it as his cue to pick up his daughter and hightail it out of the area. As he and Zoe turned into an alley, the little girl waved goodbye.

“Be good!” Diana exclaimed in parting. “And keep him good! I know where you live!”

“Yeah. I love you too, Wonder Woman!”

Then they were gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Diana walked back to the street where the shooting took place. “You can come out now,” she called, seemingly into air. “Help me out with these packages.” She unhurriedly walked over to the abandoned boxes wrapped in duct tape, and started counting them.

A strong gloved hand gently lay on her shoulder. Even synthesized, she could hear his upset tone. “I didn't know about Zoe, how deep she was in this. I dismissed the monster hoax as an inconsequential conspiracy theory. How could I have missed it? I thought he was doing it for money, as usual.” He took a deep breath. “If it was me, I would have had him in Jim Gordon's hands before he could even blink, and Zoe would be without a father. I'm glad you took this case.”

That must not have been easy for him to admit. “Thank you,” she whispered. “He’s one of your older well-known Rogues. Naturally you focused on him. I had an outsider’s viewpoint.”

Batman took a step forward so he was at her side. He knelt down beside her and together they examined the packages. He said, “Looks like Deadshot busted up a drug delivery.” He picked one up, turning it around several times in his hand. “Judging by the weight, a few hundred thousands worth, just for this one.”

Diana whistled. “That's worth a lesser-known Monet.”

“But not enough for a Picasso.” He turned somber. “And for the ordinary people here, it's far more than what they can earn in a year.”

Diana glanced at him and at his change in tone. A fleeting thought passed through her mind— _ he cared. _

It was but a few words that he wouldn't even remember saying tomorrow. But to her, it carried much. She had always known, logically and at the top of her head, but it was at this instant that she had felt it first hand, in her heart. The Batman cared. It wasn't merely for vengeance, or atonement of past sins, or blind stubbornness, or an ‘I am a hero therefore I must save the world’ mentality, that had kept him going for twenty long years. Underneath all his self-imposed darkness, he genuinely cared about people.

Without a doubt, she knew she would hold on to her realization of this moment for a very long time.

 

At the back of her mind, an alarm bell rang. She abruptly stood up. “By the way, I just remembered what you told you me yesterday.” Slowly, ominously, she turned around to face the end of the street. “Sometimes it's not the police who arrive first.”

Two yellow pickup trucks rolled in at ninety kilometers per hour, automatic rifle fire bursting from their windows. Diana blocked each bullet with her bracers while beside her Batman shielded himself with his cape. The gangsters had come to retrieve their lost property. Batwoman crouched in a battle stance.

The subsequent skirmish was short, it was sweet, and it was too easy. 

At the end of it, eight thugs in all were either knocked unconscious or sitting tied up on the ground. The conscious ones were in pain, but with no permanent injuries or broken bones. One pickup had turned turtle while the other was crashed into a nearby fence.

As Bruce dusted off his gloves, Diana quipped, “Well, it wouldn't have been a complete experience if I hadn't been able to tag team with you at least once.”

On cue, they heard police sirens approaching.

 

Diana rode shotgun while Bruce drove them in the batmobile away from the crime scene, where local law enforcement had taken over. He asked her curiously, “When you picked this case, you already knew most of it, didn't you?”

She shook her head negatively. “Not exactly. I just had an idea. One good thing about locking myself away for so many years was that it gave me a lot of free time to read. It reminded me of the Cottingley Fairies hoax.”

“The hoax perpetrated by little girls with paper fairy cutouts? Obviously fake, yet believed true by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle of Sherlock Holmes fame.”

“That's the one. I thought the cutouts were analogous to the foam tentacles, but I didn't think—not at first—that today's case was also created by another little girl. That was just a coincidence,” she admitted.

“Huh. And all those theories with crop circles and the chupacabra?”

“I was just messing with you,” she grinned. “Occam’s Razor, the simplest explanation is the likeliest. I know you figured it all out before I did, probably the moment I mentioned the surname ‘Lawton’. Maybe even before that. But like I told you, you don't need to test me.”

She pulled her cowl off, then pulled the net and pins off to let her hair down. “Setting the stuff with Zoe aside, I know you could have stepped in at any time. You could have solved this case yesterday. I appreciate you stepping back and letting me have my time in the spotlight. I mean,” she corrected, “my time in the shadows.”

They remained silent throughout the rest of the ride home.


	8. Chapter 8

Early afternoon in Paris, Diana sat behind her desk at her private office in the Louvre. She had taken a red-eye flight from Gotham, with a stopover at JFK Airport in New York, and had arrived in France just a few hours ago. She was a little tired, but a message from her assistant informed her of a special package newly arrived via international express post. 

She checked the clock: 2 pm Central European time. That meant nine in the morning, United States Eastern Standard time.

Lois had sent her a copy of that day’s Daily Planet Sunday Special Edition. Given the timing, she bet the paper had flown across the Atlantic almost the same time she had, give or take a few hours. The Lane reporter must have had an article ready beforehand, then pulled out all the stops at the last minute to get it updated with the latest developments.

_ Caped Crusader Love? Gotham Batwoman is Wonder Woman _

There was a six-column photo spread of her standing back-to-back with Batman, wearing her Batwoman cowl, her bracers held in a battle-ready stance. Her intuition told her Zoe had taken the photo, and Diana even recognized the exact moment it was shot. Zoe must have convinced her dad to discreetly return with her to the scene to ‘investigate’.

She wondered how Lois had been able to contact the Lawton girl. Perhaps Zoe had always been one of Lois’s Gotham informers, even before this. She would have to ask the next time she visited Metropolis.

With that title, she knew Lois was teasing. The article itself had zero mention of romantic entanglements. Lois wrote about the activities of the Gotham gangs, and how an unknown sharp-shooting vigilante had singlehandedly kept the gangs from terrorizing citizens. However, the stoppage of the latest gang attack, wherein two million dollars worth of illegal drugs were recovered, was attributed to Batman and Wonder Woman in a batsuit.

At the end of the piece was a short quote from Commissioner Jim Gordon. It was the police's job to protect the young ones and they were going to step up their patrolling of the city streets. Hopefully Gotham wouldn't need any more help from monster tentacles.

In any case, she and Bruce were now immortalized in print. She carefully cut out the entire article with scissors. Along with the torn bat insignia that was once a backup tracking device, she placed the newspaper cutout in her special wooden box that contained her hundred-year-old war photo. Treasures she would keep, if she could, for the rest of her immortal life.

Her phone rang, with a special ringtone, Ray Charles 1959 cover of  _ ‘Am I Blue?’.  _ She had set all the League’s numbers with their own ringtones and this one was his.

Bruce's voice came from the other end. “I read today's Daily Planet. Clark gave me the heads up. Either you called it, or you called Lois. Which is it?”

“You have my word, I did not tip Lois on that article. Certainly not with that headline.”

“Well, it got me thinking.”

“Thinking of what?” When he remained silent on the line, she decided to tease him a little bit. “Since everybody else is already thinking it...”

“You’re coming back here again next weekend, aren't you? Or maybe when the League meets up. Ah,” he cursed under his breath, “I have business in Paris anyway. I need to see the carpenter you recommended. Would you like to meet for dinner? Tomorrow or Tuesday?” He cleared his throat. She thought she suddenly heard Alfred vacuuming in the background. 

“Ask me on a date,” she deadpanned.

“What?”

“Please, ask me on a date? Let’s call it what it is. Make Alfred happy.”

As he paused, she could still hear the vacuum. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when she heard him say, “...will you go on a date with me?”

Over the phone, there was no way he could see the silly grin on her face. “Yes.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do it. Argh.


End file.
